


words, words, words.

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Kinda, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Schmoop, kink meme fill, that whole "things people say about you show up on your skin" thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Jean undresses Armin (slowly, tenderly, like he’s afraid Armin will shatter beneath his hands), he understands why Armin wears long sleeves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	words, words, words.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: http://snkkink.dreamwidth.org/2124.html?thread=2371148#cmt2371148  
> Original fic: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7498289/1/Permanent-Marker
> 
> "The things people say about you are magically printed on your skin. The more often people say it, the bigger and bolder the word will be, and sometimes the words are horrible and saddening."
> 
> Pure unadulterated fluff. Completely unbeta'd and written at like, 1am for tumblr user highviscosity because that's how I roll. \o/

The first time Jean undresses Armin (slowly, tenderly, like he’s afraid Armin will shatter beneath his hands), he understands why Armin wears long sleeves.

His arms are a mess of words, snarls of them running from his shoulders to his wrists. Most of them are small and fading, written shakily and in all capitals, but a few stand out bold and strong. Those draw Jean’s attention right away, and while he can’t say he’s surprised by what he sees, he still feels a twinge of something that feels like guilt.

Armin is looking at everything but Jean; he doesn’t say anything when Jean runs his hands down Armin’s sides, breath exhaling heavily.

“You okay with this?” Jean says, because words are _private_ and Armin is private and Jean’s hands are shaking with something he can’t quite name.

“Yeah,” Armin says, still not looking at Jean. “It’s fine. I mean, I have to do this sometime, right?”

“You don’t,” Jean hisses fiercely, and he means it. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s okay.” His hands catch Armin’s face, tilting Armin’s jaw gently until Armin is looking tentatively at him.

“Really,” Jean says, resting his forehead against Armin’s. He can feel Armin’s exhale of breath against his cheeks, a gentle shudder.

“I want you to see them,” Armin says finally. “I mean, I don’t. I don’t want anyone to see them. But I want you to know about them, I want you to accept them.”

“I don’t accept them,” Jean replies. “I wish I could wipe them all off.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s _not_.”

Jean’s never really been self-conscious about his words. He hasn’t had to be. Sure, there’s some he wishes he didn’t have – _asshole_ is printed in bold black around his bicep, probably courtesy of Eren. But he also has written in small, cramped writing just along the band of his ribs – _leader_ , and he’ll be proud of that until the day he dies.

“I’ll replace them,” Jean mutters, shifting to kiss Armin. “You’ll see.”

Armin smiles shyly up at him, hand toying with the edge of Jean’s shirt. Jean kisses Armin’s neck, nipping gently at the spot under Armin’s jaw that Jean knows is sensitive, and Armin arches into him breath hot on Jean’s neck.

“You’re beautiful,” Jean whispers against Armin’s skin, and Armin shivers beneath him. “Beautiful. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.”

“That’s embarrassing,” Armin whispers back, but he doesn’t protest.

“You are though,” Jean says. “Especially like this.”

“Well then you are too. Beautiful beautiful beautiful,” he says, and Jean laughs, lowering his mouth to Armin’s collarbone. He bites, hard enough that Armin gasps, hands tangling in Jean’s hair.

“You’re not weak,” Jean tells him in a rush, before Armin can say anything. “I know you think you are but you’re not. You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

For once Armin doesn’t argue, and that’s a victory in and of itself. Jean smiles against Armin’s chest.

“Brave,” he whispers, and he doesn’t need to see Armin’s face to know he’s blushing. “Smart. Kind.”

He runs his nails lightly across Armin’s ribs, and Armin _whines_ , hips jerking against Jean’s.

“Tease,” Armin tells him.

“You like it though.”

Armin’s hands are wandering now, tracing circuits across Jean’s back, fingers occasionally dipping beneath Jean’s waistband. His touch is feather light, shy and hesitant.

“Here,” Jean says, and then he’s pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. Armin smiles up at him, and when Jean kisses him this time, it’s rougher, messier.

Armin _is_ beautiful like this, face flushed and lips pink. He looks at Jean through his eyelashes, imploring and needy, and Jean would do pretty much anything to keep anyone from seeing Armin like this.

“Mine,” Jean tells him, sucking on the taut skin of Armin’s clavicle, fiercely possessive. “ _Mine_.”

“Yours,” Armin agrees, hands fumbling with Jean’s belt, mouth hot on Jean’s neck. “Don’t worry.” He palms Jean through his boxers, rough and eager, and Jean groans softly.

He tugs Armin’s pants over the slant of his hips, catching his fingers in the waistband of Armin’s underwear. Armin shivers as Jean licks at the dip of his pelvis; his cheek is resting against Armin’s erection, and Jean lets his eyes flutter shut, knowing that Armin is watching. He rubs his cheek across Armin, mouth parting slightly to taste him, and Armin gasps.

“Hurry up,” Armin breathes, tugging restlessly at Jean’s hair, and that’s all the invitation Jean needs.

He spreads Armin’s legs roughly, enjoying the helpless noise Armin makes when Jean shoves his fingers against Armin’s lips. Armin opens his mouth immediately, sucking messily.

The first finger slides in with little resistance, and Armin writhes when Jean crooks his finger, twisting and stretching. The second finger has Armin grinding his hips downward, and when Jean scissors his fingers, Armin very nearly shouts. At the press of a third finger, Armin bats at his arm, and Jean pauses to look up at him.

“That’s enough,” Armin rasps. “That’s good enough.”

He’s always amazed by this, the feeling of sliding into Armin. He’s tight and hot, and when Jean pushes in, he fucking _mewls_ , and Jean knows he won’t last long.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, interlocking his fingers with Armin’s. Armin squeezes, running a thumb across Jean’s knuckles.

“Does it feel okay?” Jean asks, and Armin actually has the audacity to laugh breathlessly at him.

“Stop worrying and get on with it.”

“So impatient,” Jean chides, and Armin scowls up at him. Jean chooses that moment to _move_ , and Armin yelps embarrassingly, glaring.

“You did that on purpose.”

“Maybe.”

He wants to take it slow, half because he enjoys teasing Armin, and half because he’s still worried that he’ll hurt him, but Armin’s got his free hand wrapped around his cock, jerking sloppily, and that’s all that Jean needs. He thrusts sloppily, once, twice, thrice, and then he’s coming with a shout. He collapses boneless on top of Armin, just in time to feel Armin finish, hot and sticky on his chest.

“Gross,” Jean says, but he doesn’t move. “You’re gross.”

“Rude,” Armin scolds, but he’s laughing. “Get off, you’re heavy.”

With a sigh, Jean flops over, still holding Armin’s hand.

“Love you,” Jean murmurs, and Armin kicks him lightly in the shin.

“Love you too, doofus. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.”

“Kay,” Jean yawns, but his eyelids are already drooping. Armin shoves at him again, but it’s light and playful. At some point he feels the mattress dip as Armin gets up – presumably to get some kind of washcloth – but Jean is far too content to care.

In the morning, Jean will watch as Armin looks for the new words, watch as Armin takes note of the ones that are slowly getting smaller. He’ll be pleased to note that the word _mine_ , still small from disuse, will follow the line of Armin’s clavicle, a mirror of Jean’s own. He’ll wrap his arms around Armin’s waist and kiss the line of his jaw, and Armin will blush and swat him away, secretly pleased.

But for now, he sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> I just really really loved this idea, and then I was like "oh my god, Jean/Armin" and then this happened. The ending is kind of a cop-out, but I got laaaaaaaazy.


End file.
